


Easy Walking

by emungere



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-14
Updated: 2004-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Weiss breaks up, Yohji decides to find Aya and spend Christmas with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Walking

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Chrissy for betaing. Aya's present is all her fault.

Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly:  
Why should men make haste to die?  
Empty heads and tongues a-talking  
Make the rough road easy walking,  
And the feather pate of folly  
Bears the falling sky.

A. E. Housman

***

Yohji waited outside the door to Manx's favorite restaurant. It had been three months since Weiss broke up, and in that time, Manx had come to this restaurant once a week, without fail, date or no date, every Thursday night. He smiled to himself and stubbed out his cigarette as he saw her pay the check and put on her coat. She'd made it so easy for him, it was like she wanted him to find her. 

It was also more than a little careless of her to choose a place with an alley right next to the door. As she came out, he grabbed her arm and pulled sharply. He got her pinned against the alley wall, but not before she drew her gun and jammed it against his balls.

"Nice to see you again," he said, through gritted teeth.

The gun didn't waver. "What the hell do you want, Balinese?"

"I'd like you to not blow my nuts off, for a start."

"Really? Because your behavior leads me to believe otherwise."

He shrugged. "It's not as if I could phone. None of the secure lines work anymore."

"There's a reason for that. Let go of me."

"And here I thought you might be enjoying it. You've been a little lacking in male company the past few weeks."

The gun pressed further into his groin, and he tried not to wince.

"Have you been *stalking* me?"

Yohji wondered if he might have gone a little too far this time. It might be time to explain.

"Not *stalking*. Just...keeping track. I need to know where Aya is."

"No. Is that all?"

"Could you put the gun away?"

She smiled. "No. Is that all?"

"I'm going to find him, one way or another. I thought you might want to tell me. If you don't, I might stir up stuff you don't want stirred up while I'm looking."

"You do have balls, Balinese." She paused. "For the moment, anyway. Are you seriously threatening Kritiker?"

He shrugged. "I'm saying this is what I'm going to do. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and I'm spending it with Aya. Are you going to help or not?"

"You realize that what you stir up might be harmful to more than just our operations? There was a reason we sent you all into hiding. It's bad enough you stayed in Tokyo. Do you want to lead anyone who's looking to him and his sister?"

"You sound like you actually care."

"That's irrelevant."

She tried to push him aside, but he planted his hands on the wall on either side of her. Something went squish under his right hand. Manx looked like she was struggling not to laugh.

Yohji sighed. "Tell me where the fuck he is, so I can go wash my hands."

Manx cracked a smile and shook her head, finally holstering the gun. She took out a pen and peeled his left hand off the wall.

"So you don't lose it," she said, scribbling an address on his palm. "Be careful. And if you get in trouble..."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't call me." She ducked under his arm and stepped back out onto the street.

***

Yohji sat in the hospital parking lot and smoked out the open window of his borrowed car. Most people would probably call it 'stolen,' but he'd have it back in long-term parking at Narita Airport before its owners knew it was gone.

He'd been by Aya's small house earlier, but all the lights were out. Somehow Yohji didn't think he had a date, so this was the place. He'd driven three hours to see him. He should probably go in.

The problem was that three hours had given him time to think. Thinking was usually Aya's problem, not his. But the facts did mount up.

1\. Aya hadn't told him about his sister. Hell, Aya hadn't even told him his real name.

2\. In all the time they'd been fucking, Aya hadn't once stayed the night in his bed. He'd let Yohji stay in his, but he was always gone by the time Yohji woke up.

3\. Aya hadn't answered his e-mails. All right, there had only been one, and it might have been a little offensive in tone, but dammit, Aya knew tact wasn't his strong suit and should understand because it wasn't Aya's either. For that matter, Aya wasn't big on common civility, which might be why...

4\. Aya hadn't said goodbye. Which had been the topic of the possibly offensive, almost certainly tactless e-mail. Yohji thought he remembered the phrase 'heartless son of a bastard trout,' but he'd been pretty drunk at the time.

These facts plus Aya's expression the last time he'd seen him--admittedly, only minutes after he'd put a sword through Takatori--suggested that maybe Aya would not welcome him with open arms. Or open legs.

Then again, if he didn't go in, he'd never know. And he'd look like an idiot when Manx asked him what had happened, as she surely would.

He got out of the borrowed car and crushed his cigarette under his heel. It wasn't as if he had anything to be nervous about. If Aya didn't want to see him, he'd still get back to Tokyo in time to find a date for the night.

Not like he actually *cared* if Aya sent him packing. He was just good in bed. Really, really good in bed. And it was a matter of pride, which justified stalking Manx and the three hour drive and the Christmas cake--who would've thought the damn things would cost that much?--and the gift-wrapped package in the backseat. Didn't it?

He nodded to himself and walked quickly, the chilled air raising goose bumps on his arms, even under his coat. It hadn't been this cold when he'd left Tokyo. Hadn't been able to see the stars, either, though the clouds were creeping over them again now. The moon was only a pale blur behind streaks of grey. He gave it a last glance and pushed his way through the revolving doors.

It occurred to him, perhaps a little late, that Aya's sister wouldn't be registered under her real name. He sighed inwardly and put on a bright smile for the girl behind the reception desk.

Ten minutes later he was on the way to the fifth floor with Aya's sister's room number and the girl's phone number, which he crumpled up and tossed in a trash can. Which was stupid, really. She was pretty and had a sweet smile, and if went home with her he wouldn't have to drive back until morning.

He looked between the room in question and the trash can. Maybe he could just forget about Aya and eat the cake with whatshername. Return the present tomorrow. Save some money.

Yeah. That made sense. Except that if he'd been able to forget about Aya, he wouldn't be here in the first place.

He swung the door open without bothering to knock.

***

"Five more minutes," Aya said, as the nurse opened the door. He didn't bother to look up. He knew visiting hours by heart now, and he'd already been here longer than he should, but it was Christmas Eve. He was hoping they'd feel sorry enough for him to let him stay. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to be.

"As long as you want," said a familiar voice.

Aya looked up. It took his brain a second to process what he saw. That was really Yohji standing in the doorway, tentative smile on his face, tucking his hair behind his ear the way Aya had watched him do so many times before.

Aya's life, the past three months, had acquired such routine that it was almost impossible to accept that anything could interrupt it. He went to work. He went to the hospital and stayed until they made him leave. He got take-out on the way home and ate it on the couch while he ignored the TV. He'd never watched TV much himself, so the shows he flipped to automatically were Ken's soccer games, Omi's National Geographic specials, and the horrible Australian soap operas that Yohji watched, he insisted, only to improve his English.

Yohji had always been good at interrupting routine.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he heard himself say.

He saw Yohji blink, saw something flicker in his eyes. The smile that followed a second later seemed to sit uneasily on him.

"It's Christmas Eve. Thought you might not have a date. And...I was in the neighborhood?"

"Your neighborhood is three hours away."

He should sound more welcoming. His plans for tonight had included pizza, memories of his family opening presents together, and the ever-present awareness that this and all future holidays would be spent alone. Any distraction was welcome, and Yohji... Yohji was more welcome than most.

"Not my fault you moved so far away."

Yohji leaned against the doorway, apparently at ease if you couldn't read the tension in his back and false lightness in his voice.

"No, it's not. How did you find me?"

"Manx."

"Was there torture?"

Yohji grinned and slumped further against the doorway, hip tilting out, hand in his pocket dragging his jeans down over his hip bone. He looked more at ease and strikingly more beautiful than he had a second ago.

"No torture. Just blackmail. Want to see the photos? They're in the car."

"Really?"

"No. But I brought cake."

Aya's eyebrows went up. That seemed significantly less likely than blackmail photos.

"Really?"

Yohji nodded. "And... Well, you'll see." He straightened up. "Coming?"

He could see the nurse hovering at Yohji's shoulder, waiting to kick him out. His grace period was up.

He nodded and got his jacket. Normally, he'd kiss Aya-chan goodbye, but with them watching, he settled for touching her hand as he passed, thumb flicking against the tip of the earring she held. The metal was warm, as the one in his own ear never was. Appropriate. Even now, she was more alive than he was.

He nodded to the nurse and took Yohji's hand, which would hopefully stop the offers he got from time to time. Why they thought he'd want to be with anyone who reminded him of this place was beyond him, but then he didn't understand why they'd be interested to begin with. He was sullen, silent, and often rude.

Of course, that had never stopped Yohji, who now slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. It felt much too good, and he was sliding into the same trap that had scared him so badly when they'd been together before. It was worse now.

He knew he couldn't depend on Yohji, that Yohji would sleep around on him. Yohji *had* slept around on him, and he had said nothing. What was there to say? Yohji would run at the first hint that he wanted an exclusive relationship, so he took what he could get.

"Parking lot," Yohji said to him, waving at the girl behind the reception desk. She'd probably already given him her number from the way she smiled back.

In Tokyo, he'd had Yohji all day at work and, towards the end, almost every night in his bed. It had been enough, because it had to be enough, but this was different.

He scanned the lot for Yohji's car and came up empty. Yohji pointed.

"The blue one."

Aya looked at him, genuinely shocked. "You sold it?"

Yohji looked equally shocked. "No! But it's pretty conspicuous. Manx thinks there might still be people looking for us."

"So you stole one."

"Borrowed."

Aya grunted in reply and wrapped his coat more tightly around himself. He lengthened his pace and left Yohji behind. Snow was starting to fall, and there was still icy slush on the ground from last time.

Yohji caught up with him in time to open his door for him. Aya gave him a dirty look for that as he got in. He didn't need his doors opened and his chairs pulled out; he didn't need flowers or empty words, and he wasn't, in fact, a girl. He liked to remind Yohji of that, since all of Yohji's girls seemed to be disposable.

Yohji gave him a sheepish smile as he got in beside him, not quite an apology, but as close as he would get.

Aya stared out the window as Yohji turned towards his house without asking for directions. The snow was picking up now, twisting down from the black sky, diffusing the amber streetlights into a haze of orange. Yohji couldn't drive back in this. He'd have to ask him to stay the night.

There would be sex. He didn't have that much willpower. Everything would start up again, only now Yohji would be three hours away, doing god knows what with god knows who and coming up maybe once a week to fuck him and stir up his dead emotions just enough that he'd have to *feel* again. And what he felt would be pain, because it always fucking was.

He took a breath and let it out again, fogging the window.

"Yohji?"

"Huh?"

"If something happened to me...would you take care of her?"

Yohji didn't even hesitate. "No. Because nothing's going to happen to you. What the hell is this? Shut up with that shit."

Another deep breath, and he drew a line through the steam on the window. Yohji was right, of course. Nothing was going to happen to him, not living like this. Unless he did it himself and, pleasant as the idea sometimes sounded, he knew he wouldn't.

Still, he felt he had to try again. "But if--"

"No," Yohji snapped. He glanced over at Aya. "You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking."

"How would you know what I'm thinking?"

"Because I know you're a broody, depressed bastard, and you spend way too much time feeling sorry for yourself."

Aya stiffened. "Stop the car."

"Why?"

"I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Don't be stupid."

Just what he needed, a reminder of just how much of a son of a bitch Yohji could be. Lovely. Even better, he seemed to reserve this part of his personality just for Aya. Yohji played the gentleman with the girls he dated, and even Ken and Omi caught the sharp edge of his tongue only occasionally. Aya got it often enough to realize that Yohji had a real talent for it.

"Are you planning to take me prisoner now?" Aya asked.

"I'm planning to drive you home. It's a little chilly out, if you hadn't noticed."

"Yohji--"

"Listen up," Yohji said, not taking his eyes off the road. "Maybe I'm way off base--I hope I am--but anyway." He took a deep breath and made the next turn before continuing. "If you ever do anything to--to hurt yourself... Anything like that, and I'll personally make sure your sister ends up in the worst nursing home in Tokyo. Rats and roaches and felons working as orderlies. You'll be lucky if she lasts a year past your funeral. Except, oh wait, you won't be lucky because you'll be *dead*."

Aya turned his head to stare, too stunned to answer, and saw Yohji's jaw set and his hands clenching the steering wheel, knuckles white.

"You won't do that," Aya told him.

"I will." When Yohji let go of the wheel to shift, his hand was shaking, almost imperceptibly. "That's a promise."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

Yohji pulled into his driveway and shut off the motor. They sat in the growing silence and watched the snow build up on the windshield.

Aya had never let himself think that Yohji might actually care for him.

"Stay the night," he said. "It's a long drive back."

Yohji nodded and got out of the car.

***

By the time they'd gotten inside, nearly dumped the cake on the carpet, settled it on the table, and taken off coats and shoes, Yohji had almost gotten over whatever weird mood had seized him.

He should have been used to Aya's weirdness by now. But when he *said* shit like that and *looked* like that, Yohji couldn't help thinking about what it would be like if Aya wasn't around anymore.

He wiped a finger through the frosting and sucked it clean, and then picked a strawberry off the top. Those were what jacked the price up, for sure. Worth it, though. He took a bite and sucked at it so the juice wouldn't dribble down his chin.

He looked up and found Aya watching him. He smiled slowly and licked frosting off the strawberry.

"Want some?"

Aya stepped closer and hooked his fingers into the waist band of Yohji's jeans. "Yes," he said.

"Can't kick me out of your bed tonight. You invited me to stay, and I'm not sleeping on the damn couch."

Aya tilted his head, leaned in and kissed Yohji's neck. "I won't kick you out."

Yohji put the strawberry down, got two fistfuls of Aya's orange sweater and pulled until he took a step closer. He hesitated, not quite kissing him. It had been so long. He was sure this should feel awkward, but it didn't, and Aya was watching him with this expectant look that suddenly made him want to back off. It wasn't supposed to be this easy.

He swallowed. "You want some cake?" he asked, mouth inches away from Aya's, close enough that he felt the warmth of his own breath as it was reflected back by Aya's skin.

Aya leaned in and licked the corner of his mouth, and Yohji *moaned*. He couldn't help it. He pulled Aya hard up against him, Aya's hand halfway down his pants and trapped between them. Their mouths met, warm and wet and soft, and he shivered as Aya's tongue touched his.

Yohji reached under Aya's sweater, fingers sliding over the ridges of his spine. He opened his mouth wider, pressed tighter against him, backing him up against the table.

Aya's mouth didn't taste any different than anyone else's, except that he hardly ever tasted like booze, which wasn't something most of the girls Yohji dated could say. It was just a mouth, and Aya wasn't even *that* great of a kisser, though he'd gotten a lot better since the first time. There was nothing that should keep Yohji clutching him close, licking at his mouth, sucking on his tongue. But he couldn't get enough.

Aya boosted himself up to sit on the table and wrapped his legs around Yohji's hips, heels hooking behind his thighs. Aya was hard, and his skin was heated, and he gasped as Yohji's teeth scraped across the sensitive spot under his ear. He yanked his hand free of Yohji's pants and peeled his sweater off over his head, tossing it behind him.

"Bedroom," Aya said. "We should--"

But he didn't sound convinced, so Yohji went back to sucking on his throat. Leaving small, red marks high up on his neck, under his ear, where even a turtleneck wouldn't cover them.

Aya started working on the buttons of Yohji's shirt, but gave up when Yohji bit gently at his earlobe. He yanked, and the rest popped free, and then he was pushing the shirt down until Yohji's arms were caught behind him, held there by still-buttoned cuffs.

"Bed," Aya hissed, sliding off the table and rubbing full length against Yohji's body before stepping around him.

Yohji felt his breath coming too fast, cock aching and almost painful. He heard himself make some involuntary sound of need as Aya's hand closed on the fabric that held his arms behind him and pushed him forward.

Aya laughed almost inaudibly and licked his ear, and Yohji's cock jerked in his pants.

"Didn't know you were into the kinky stuff, Aya," he said, because he never knew when to shut up. "I would've brought my handcuffs."

"What makes you think I don't have any?" Aya asked levelly.

"You don't," Yohji said. "I'd know. You would've locked me up the first time I pinched your ass in the middle of work."

"Maybe I was saving them for a special occasion," Aya said, and pushed him onto the bed.

Yohji looked up at him and squirmed around, trying to move so he wasn't lying on his hands. "Were you?"

"Sorry to disappoint you." Aya rolled him over onto his stomach and stroked down his back, hand catching on the shirt and pulling until the cuff buttons popped as well. He tugged the shirt off and threw it on the floor.

"Didn't say I wanted you to or anything," Yohji said. He rubbed automatically at his wrists and tried to sit up.

Aya's hand planted in the middle of his back held him down. "Put your hands over your head," he said quietly.

"What? Don't be stupid, I--"

"Hold onto the headboard."

Yohji wondered what would happen if he didn't, but found he was more curious to know what would happen if he did. He grasped the slats of the headboard and looked at Aya over his shoulder.

"Well?"

Aya's hand, light and a bit cool on his skin, moved down his back, down the curve of his ass, fingers rubbing at the seam of his pants. Yohji shivered and spread his legs.

"On your knees," Aya said. His hand slipped further down between Yohji's legs, pressing behind his balls, rubbing the slick lining of his slacks against his cock.

Elbows and forearms braced on the bed, Yohji got to his knees. Looking back, he saw Aya kneel between his legs. Aya unfastened his button and zipper.

"You don't even have lube, do you?" Yohji asked. "I mean, why would you? You've been up here alone all this time, can't quite picture you going out and picking someone up, what would you do, glare until they begged for--oh *fuck*." This last he said as Aya's slightly chilly hand closed over his cock.

"Oh, fuck," he said again as Aya's hand stroked him, slick and heating rapidly against his hot flesh. "Guess you do have lube."

"I had a tube with me when I left. It's almost gone now." Aya pulled his pants down over his ass and ran one finger down between his cheeks, pressing softly over his opening until Yohji gave up and moaned.

"But you haven't--" Yohji said, breathless, still trying to make himself understood. "You didn't--with anyone--"

"All by myself," Aya said. "Just like this."

His finger left and came back wet and slippery, pressing steadily in. Another one joined it almost immediately, and Yohji ducked his head and bit the sheets to keep quiet. He could see Aya in his mind, fingers twisting in his own ass, hips up off the bed as he jerked his cock. Just like this, just like he was doing now.

"Enough," Yohji gasped. The slats of the headboard cut into his hands, and he could feel sweat dampening the hair at the back of his neck. "Enough. Fuck me."

Aya didn't stop his slow, careful stretching. He bent forward to lift Yohji's hair away from his neck and brushed his lips across exposed skin.

Yohji twisted under him, bit his lip, pressed his face tighter against the sheets. "Now," he said. "Fuck me *now*."

Aya's hand was firm and warm now around his cock, just holding, slight pressure. His fingers slid in perfectly every time, hit just right, and Yohji thought he might come just from this, and he didn't want to. He wanted Aya inside him, wanted him just as lost and needing as he was.

"Please," he mumbled into the sheets, so softly he didn't think there was any way Aya could've heard it.

Whether Aya had or not, his fingers were gone now, and Yohji heard a zipper being undone. He felt hard, unsubtle heat pressing against him, into him, and sucked in air as Aya's cock slid into his body, all the way, head resting against his prostate, making it hard to keep still.

He thrust forward into Aya's hand and back onto his cock. Heard Aya's gasp, felt the way Aya's hand tightened around him.

"Fuck me, Aya," he whispered, pushing back hard. "How many goddamn times do I have to ask?"

"You could--" Aya drove in sharply, teeth on the back of Yohji's neck now, hot breath and a growl in his voice. "You could try saying please instead of--fuck--making demands."

Yohji tightened his body around Aya's cock, feeling the stretch of his inner muscles that was almost pain. Then Aya pulled back and shoved in hard, and it was pain, a burn and ache that faded with the next thrust.

"Why?" he panted. "Getting what I want anyway..."

Aya stopped dead, hips frozen and holding Yohji's in place, head of his cock just inside.

"Not everyone will give you whatever you want just because you're a charming, unscrupulous asshole, Yohji. Someday you'll realize that."

"Am not."

"You don't even know what unscrupulous means, do you?"

"Do so. I've got scruples. Keep 'em with my marbles."

Yohji couldn't say how he knew Aya was trying not to laugh, but he knew.

"Still an asshole," Aya said.

"Your asshole. At the moment."

There was an unmistakable snort of laughter from behind him.

"Please," Yohji said softly, pushing back as much as Aya's hand on his hip would allow. "Please fuck me."

It didn't hurt to ask, not when he knew Aya was dying to do exactly that, and not when it made Aya shudder and shove hard into him so hard he slid forward, sheets wrinkling up under his arms.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Jesus fuck, Aya, oh--"

Aya moved with a steady rhythm. His voice was distinctly smug as he said, "You can stop begging. Once was enough."

But Yohji couldn't get himself to shut up, so he muffled his words and moans in the sheets and wondered why it was so fucking good.

Maybe it was just that he liked getting fucked and Aya was nothing special at all. He had nothing to compare it with; Aya was the only one he'd let do this, though Aya didn't know that. So maybe it was as simple as that and has nothing to do with the slow warmth of having Aya wrapped around him, inside him, panting in his ear.

Yohji pushed back against him, twisted forward so his cock slid through Aya's hand, and Aya's thumb skidded across the head just as teeth closed on the nape of his neck. His whole body jerked as he came, and he panted Aya's name as Aya fucked him harder, faster, finally going still and coming without a sound.

Aya's hair was soft against his cheek, and Aya's breath was warm. They slid down slowly until they were lying flat on the bed, clothes and legs and sheets all tangled together. Aya lay full length on top of him, and Yohji could feel his heartbeat against his back. He wanted a cigarette, but not badly enough to move.

"What did you get me?" Aya asked as he pulled out.

"What?"

"The present." Aya rolled off to one side and peeled Yohji's hands off the headboard. He turned his palms up and pressed his thumb against the red lines imprinted there. "What did you get me?"

"I can't tell you. Then it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Then go get it so I can open it."

Aya dug his thumbs in, massaging blood and warmth back into Yohji's hands, bent so his hair brushed the skin of Yohji's arm, kissed his wrist.

"That's not fair," Yohji said. His eyelids were drooping closed already, and he was sure Aya knew exactly how much he didn't want to move.

"Life isn't fair, Kudoh."

"Bunny slippers," Yohji mumbled.

Aya stopped massaging his hand. "What?"

"You heard me."

"You got me bunny slippers."

"Your feet are always cold," he muttered. This had seemed like such a good idea in the store. "I know because you always stick them against my legs to warm them up, but there's no one here to..." He looked down and let his hair fall across his face. The sheets were oh so fascinating. "I thought they'd keep your feet warm. That's all."

"You..." Aya started. Then he got up off the bed and walked away.

Yohji put his face in his hands and sighed. He realized, if slightly too late, that they weren't he most appropriate present, but he'd *tried*. It seemed unfair that he was going to get tossed out into a blizzard for them.

He didn't move. If Aya wanted him out, he could say so.

Aya came back a few minutes later and didn't say anything at all. He wiped Yohji clean with a warm, damp cloth and poked him in the side.

"Roll over."

Yohji turned over and sat up, struggling out of his pants. Aya was sitting cross-legged next to him, gift-wrapped box in his lap.

"Did you really?" Aya asked.

Yohji just nodded and watched him carefully unstick the tape and remove the paper whole.

"What, are you going to reuse that or something?"

"Maybe. I haven't gotten you anything yet, and I don't have any wrapping paper."

The 'yet' sounded promising, Yohji thought. Maybe he wasn't getting kicked out after all.

Aya opened the box and pulled out the bunny slippers. They were red and had beady eyes and black devil horns. He stuck them on his feet and looked down at them, head tilted to one side.

"Why bunny slippers exactly?"

"Thought it'd be funny if you actually wore them," Yohji mumbled. And it *was*. He was trying not to look to closely so he wouldn't laugh.

"They're very warm," Aya said, finally. He leaned over and kissed Yohji's cheek. "Thank you."

Yohji watched as Aya kicked the slippers to the floor and sent his pants after them. They got under the covers, and Aya switched off the light.

"Are you leaving early in the morning?" Aya asked.

Yohji hesitated. "I thought I might stay for a while. If that's okay."

Aya edged closer until they were lying side by side, arms touching. "That's fine. You don't have anything to get back to?"

"Nah," Yohji said. "Nothing important." He'd cleaned his fridge out before he left. He'd wondered at the time why he was bothering, since he'd only be gone for one night.

He turned on his side and threw an arm over Aya's chest. Aya's cold feet tangled with his and started to warm.

"We left the cake out," Aya said.

"It'll be fine till morning. Cake for breakfast."

"That's disgusting."

Aya's arm curled around him, and Aya's hand settled in his hair, fingers moving lightly on his scalp.

"Mm," Yohji agreed. His eyes were closing. He thought he could probably sublet his apartment. Manx wanted him out of Tokyo anyway.

***

Aya woke up on the far edge of the bed, curled on his side. Yohji was sprawled across the rest of it. The sun made his hair shine gold and, less attractively, glinted off a bit of drool at the side of his mouth. He wouldn't be up for hours yet.

Aya swung his feet down to the floor and paused. The devil-bunny slippers were staring up at him. They looked nearly too sinister to put his feet into, but it was cold, and the floor was colder.

He put them on and went out into the living room to close the window he'd left open last night. Yohji's fault for distracting him.

A snore rolled out from the bedroom like a thunderclap. Yohji snored only intermittently, but the volume made up for the rarity. He'd want coffee when he woke up. Aya set about making it.

It was still snowing outside. The car was a white lump through his kitchen window. His neighbor caught sight of him and stopped shoveling snow long enough to wave. Aya waved in return and took a step back, out of view.

He wasn't used to people treating him like he was normal. He knew this was his life now. Weiss was over. He knew that, but it had still been a shock when his neighbor had brought him cookies yesterday morning and spent ten minutes chatting about the weather.

Now he had his mother's voice in his head telling him he should give her something in return, though he had no idea what. He certainly wasn't going to bake.

When the coffee was ready, he sat down at the table with a steaming cup in front of him. He looked down at his slippers. They were, with the exception of the Hello Kitty purse Aya-chan had given him when she was four and then promptly stolen back, the most ridiculous gift he'd ever received, and not like Yohji at all.

Yohji gave his girls chocolate and flowers and jewelry, and Aya had once sworn to himself that if Yohji ever gave him any of those things, it would be over between them.

But Yohji hadn't given him any of those things. He'd blackmailed Manx, driven three hours to see him, and brought him cake and bunny slippers. He'd tried. And the slippers were more appealing than Aya was ever likely to tell him. They glared up at him, and he smiled back and cut a piece of cake.

Another singular, thunderous snore sounded from the bedroom, followed by muttering and creaking bedsprings. A minute later, Yohji staggered out to the kitchen, blurry-eyed with sleep, wearing a pair of Aya's boxers, and scratching his ass.

"You woke yourself up snoring, didn't you?" Aya asked.

"Fuck you. I don't snore."

He took a sip of Aya's coffee and tried to kiss him. Aya planted a hand on his chest to keep him off.

"Brush your teeth."

"Forgot my toothbrush."

"You can use mine."

Yohji made a face and sat down in the chair next to him. "That's gross. What's wrong with you?"

"Yohji, your tongue has been in the mouths of half the women in Tokyo. My toothbrush is shiny and new in comparison."

"Now you're insulting my body parts? Way to make a guy feel welcome." Yohji grabbed his plate and started eating his cake, which was just as well. Cake for breakfast really was disgusting.

"I have to get that car back to Narita," Yohji said. "Don't know how long they'll be gone."

Aya took his coffee back and held it up so the steam warmed his face and the mug hid the involuntary twist of his mouth. Of course Yohji was leaving. Had he really thought he'd stay?

"Have to talk to Manx, too." Yohji was fiddling with his fork, drawing lines in the frosting. "She was pretty insistent about getting me out of Tokyo. And I was thinking, with the skiing up here and the hot springs and all..."

Aya looked up from his coffee.

"I'd get my own place, of course," Yohji said. "But I thought I could stay here while I was looking. You don't mind, right?" He was making meaningful eye contact with the cake and sounded much too casual.

"You can't smoke in the house," Aya said, after a pause.

"No. 'Course not. Wouldn't dream of it."

That was a lie, of course. He'd do it every chance he got.

"When are you leaving to take the car back?"

"Couple hours. Be back before dark."

"With your car. Which is not inconspicuous."

Yohji shrugged. "It's my car."

Aya nodded. He couldn't expect Yohji to be parted from his car for more than a few days. Besides, if anyone wanted to find him... Well, a young girl in a coma was far easier to trace than a car.

"All right," he said.

"You want to come?" Yohji asked, finally glancing over at him. "It's a nice drive."

"No," Aya said. "I think I have to buy cookies. Or something."

Yohji stole another sip of his coffee. "For me?"

"No. Not for you." He paused. It was really none of Yohji's business. "For my neighbor," he said, finally. "She gave me some. Yesterday."

"Come with. We can pick up cookie dough on the way back and then you can take them over while they're warm and pretend like you made them. Plus, we get to eat the leftover cookie dough."

Aya wanted, suddenly and badly, to kiss him. For no reason he could name. It hadn't occurred to him that a normal life might also include eating cookie dough with his...with Yohji. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"All right," he said.

If he kissed Yohji now, Yohji would point out that he hadn't brushed his teeth either, and there would be a discussion that could conceivably last until they got to Tokyo.

Aya kissed him anyway.


End file.
